In my previous post I compared massage clients to a street walker’s “corner” because that is exactly how some massage therapists treat their clients. The first two years that I worked in the office I currently practice in, there was another massage therapist who practiced there as well. For my own safety we will call her Medusa since her hair was a pile of tight springy curls on top of her head. In fact, she not only practiced there, she was the massage manager and the one who hired me even though I had two months left in massage school.
While I finished school I worked in the chiropractic side, but in my free time learned the massage ropes. I thought this was the best thing that had ever happened to me, until I actually got my license and was able to start practicing.
Medusa went from being the sweet massage chick who was gracious enough to take a chance on the newbie, to hating every fiber of my being overnight. I couldn’t do anything right. I tried so hard to help her with anything she needed such as checking messages, changing her sheets, and doing the laundry. She saw it as taking over her practice.
One afternoon she came back from the gym and walked into the office we shared. I was on the phone, completely oblivious to the fact I needed to be very afraid of her and what she was about to do. Medusa walked right over, hung up my call, and grabbed the receiver out of my hand, slamming it down on the base.
“What the fuck are you doing?!?” she asked.
“I was talking to my-”
“You better make the right decision right now and NOT lie to me. I know you were talking to my client!” she screamed.
I didn’t say anything. She had a crazy look in her eye, and I knew whatever came out of my mouth would not be believed. I got up to walk past her, but that wasn’t the right thing to do either. Medusa blocked my path and I quickly tried to fake her out and pass around her other side.
“Sit down!!” she was screaming again.
I did what she told me to even though I could have picked her tiny troll self up and body slammed her into the wood floor. That image was stuck in my head – the idea was sounding better by the second.
“I know what you’re trying to do. I know you want everything I have and I’m not going to let you have it! You think you’re so awesome with your perfect little family, all of your education, blah, blah, blah!” she was now shaking as she yelled. I just kept listening.
“You will NOT touch that phone again – do you understand me? Are we clear?”
“Yeah, I don’t have to use your stupid phone,” I told her as I rolled my eyes. That was a big mistake. She lunged at me and put her hand over my mouth. I wanted to bite her so bad, but the way she was acting I was scared I might contract some disease that makes you go nuts.
“Don’t you EVER use that tone with me again. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t talk because her nasty hand was still over my mouth so I just nodded my head.
“One more thing… If I even see you look at one of my clients, this is nothing compared to what I will do to you. Do you get me?” Medusa’s nostrils were flared and she was spitting as she talked.
At that moment the chiropractor walked in and Medusa released me from her hold and walked away like she was an innocent little angel. The rest of the day was normal, and I said nothing about what she did.
A week later there was a message on the phone that she and I “shared” in our office. I asked her if she could check it because it might be a client I was waiting for to call.
“You can check it, silly goose, it’s your phone too!” she said with a smile.
Good God, what have I gotten myself into??

Keep reading for more stories about crazy clients and the massage therapist I worked with!!

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